


Sweetness, angst and everything in between

by Foxxi_Is_A_Paradox



Category: Food Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Fluff, M/M, Tumblr Prompts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-12 10:58:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 4,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17466266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Foxxi_Is_A_Paradox/pseuds/Foxxi_Is_A_Paradox
Summary: Ficlets and drabbles I've written as answers to requests from my 100 followers prompt meme on Tumblr(All the fics that used to be in the series "100 Followers on Tumblr Prompt Meme" are now here)





	1. Slow Dance (Chocolate x Coffee)

**Author's Note:**

> These were originally published individually, but i figured it'd be better to compile them in one multi-chaptered fic

In the long lives that food souls live, it’s easy to be swept away in the countless memories and traumas, to lose oneself over hundreds of years of fighting and fighting and more fighting.

They have to stay grounded. They need something to keep them really alive, to feel like there’s more to them than just being a weapon.

And Chocolate has Coffee for that. They find solace in each other, grounding themselves together in solidarity over being immortal, unable to run away from the ups and downs that such a life brings.

In the end, it’s the most simple things that keep them sane. The traditions they have together, the ones that they do almost like it’s second nature. The way they fit together like two puzzle pieces, joining together to form a clear, beautiful picture. The rhythm of their schedules, keeping them put together in their regularity.

They have many things they do together, just the two of them, lost in their own world. But Chocolate’s favourite thing that they do would have to be those nights when the cafe is closed, and the sun is going down, and the only source of light is the candles Coffee likes to light sometimes. It’s always the same spiel, with Chocolate asking Coffee all gentleman-like if he’d like to dance, and Coffee in a similar fashion replying that he would, like they’re strangers meeting for the first time just to dance.

Except it’s familiar, too familiar for them to be strangers. The soft smile on Coffee’s face as they slow dance feels like home to Chocolate, a constant in his life, grounding him in the whirlwind that is a food soul’s day to day life.

For once they’re not in a rush, time all but forgotten, wrapped up in each other. It’s their way to slow down, to take time to appreciate each other and live in the moment, honoring their own traditions as the sun sets and soft music floats through the cafe.


	2. Sunshine (Pudding x Sandwich)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some days are worth stopping to appreciate
> 
> (Prompt: Sun)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow I can't believe this is the first pudding x sandwich fic on the site  
> achievement unlocked: first ao3 fic for a ship

t’s a busy day in the cafe. And when the cafe is busy, Pudding is also busy. Sandwich can see Pudding now, chiding Omurice for almost dropping something, taking orders to pass on to Hawthorne ball in the kitchen, bringing out bills and collecting tips, busy, busy, busy.

Sandwich frowns, watching the way Pudding seems to droop as time passes, exhaustion apparent on his features as he opens another large window to let some more light in. It’s a lovely day outside, the sun is shining and the sky is blue and devoid of clouds. There’s a light breeze floating through the cafe, and it’s very pleasant.

All the other food souls working in the cafe seem affected by this weather, a spring in their step as they take orders, rolling their eyes at Pudding’s nagging. Yes, Pudding doesn’t seem to be as uplifted as the others. If anything, he looks more tired.

At that moment, their Master Attendant walks in, greeting them all with a smile. She checks on Hawthorne Ball in the kitchen, then announces a shift change, taking him, Cheese, Omurice, and thankfully, Pudding off duty. Sandwich hurries to intercept Pudding before the other food soul can disappear into the back of the restaurant, no doubt planning to organize something or the other.

The blonde food soul looks exhausted, blinking tiredly at Sandwich. Sandwich tuts quietly, gripping the other food soul’s hand and leading him out of the restaurant, ignoring Pudding’s weak protests. Eventually he falls silent, and lets Sandwich lead him outside. The sun is warm and comforting, and Pudding feels somewhat sleepy.

Soon, Sandwich stops, and Pudding finds that they’re on the edge of the beach near the restaurant, on a grassy patch before the vast expanse of smooth sand. The sea is as blue as the sky, and the waves lap playfully at the sand, brightened and warmed by the sun. Sandwich sits down on the grass, pulling Pudding down with him. After a moment of deliberation, he lies down, pulling Pudding to lie down too. As they lie there, staring up at the sunny sky, Pudding lets out a light chuckle.

“What’s this all about?” He doesn’t sound annoyed, just curious.

Sandwich smiles lightly. “I just figured you needed a break. You were overworking again.”

Pudding sighs. “There’s just so much to do…”

Pouting, Sandwich turns his head to look at Pudding. “But there should always time to sit and relax, and just bask in the sun on such a beautiful day. Just look how beautiful the sky is when it’s clear,” he gestures to the cloudless sky with one hand, “and how nice and warm it is with the sunshine and this breeze.”

Pudding stares back at him, and Sandwich thinks that his bright blonde hair and yellow highlighted clothes make him seem like he could be the sun himself, center of Sandwich’s own solar system. After a moment, Pudding lets out a resigned sigh.

“I guess you’re right,” his lips quirk up into a content smile. “It is rather pleasant.”

And so they lie there in the sun, hands intertwined and with the sound of the sea in the background, basking in the warmth of the sun and in each other’s presence.


	3. It takes two to tango (Peking Duck x Boston Lobster)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't insult Peking Duck's tango skills
> 
> (Prompt: Dance)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To clarify, this story is set during the party Beer and co. throw for Boston Lobster and Peking Duck at the end of the storyline for Peking’s Gentleman Sky skin event.

In hindsight, perhaps insulting Peking Duck’s tango skills had been a mistake. He should have guessed it when that damn smug look crossed Peking’s face at his taunts. It was the face he always made when he knew he was going to be right.

Peking had taken it upon himself to prove Boston Lobster utterly and totally wrong. But it takes two to tango, and his usual tango partner, Yuxiang, was too drunk to stand up, let alone dance.

But that didn’t deter him. Sweeping his eyes around the room, his gaze had eventually come to rest on Boston Lobster. It wasn’t a good sign when his expression turned almost predatory.

Which leads us to the current moment. Peking Duck has his arm around Boston Lobster, and the other is clasping his hand. Boston Lobster mirrors his position, and they’re slowly tangoing to the music Beer is playing from who knows where. Boston Lobster blames the alcohol, because under no normal circumstances would he do this kind of thing.

Peking Duck is in fact really good at the tango, as Boston Lobster has found out first hand. He himself has never tangoed in his life, the great Boston Lobster does not dance. But Peking is light on his feet and his steps are so damn controlled, to the point that he makes dancing with Boston Lobster, who has two left feet when it comes to dancing, look graceful.

It’s clear that Peking would probably be able to show off more if Yuxiang was available to be his dance partner, but he’s doing fine even with Boston Lobster, who is beginning to get the hang of basic the basic tango. It’s an oddly intimate moment for the two of them to be sharing, and though he’d never admit it, Boston Lobster feels somewhat flustered.

The music starts to end, and Peking Duck quickens his pace slightly, before stopping, and much to Boston Lobster’s chagrin (and everyone else’s delight), and dipping Boston Lobster in a single controlled and elegant movement. Boston Lobster reddens, spluttering indignantly from his current position inches from the ground, with Peking’s smile right above him. But Peking just chuckles, and if Boston Lobster thinks that he looks almost heavenly with this lighting from this angle, he keeps that thought to himself.


	4. Stars (Steak x Red Wine)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's more to the night sky than dots of light scattered randomly across the unyielding blackness
> 
> (Prompt: Stars)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you can't tell, these two are my favourites
> 
> (This fic is published separately as well, as it was longer than the others and I was rather happy with it)

Steak isn’t a light sleeper. When he sleeps, he sleeps like a log, dead to the world until he wakes up automatically at 6am sharp to help the other food souls and Master Attendant with the morning jobs. Food souls don’t really need sleep, but most of them have developed the habit of sleeping at night from years of doing so, and simply for convenience and the extra energy boost.

Of course, there are still food souls who don’t sleep, opting to use the night for other things, for time to themselves. Red Wine is one such food soul. Steak has known for a long time that the purple haired food soul doesn’t sleep, though he has no idea where he goes at night. He’s always in the bed across the room they share when Steak goes to sleep, and he’s always already ready for the day when Steak wakes up.

On this particular night, Steak isn’t particularly tired, and his sleep is rather light. So he hears when Red Wine gets up, the floorboards creaking lightly under his feet, the one near the door creaking particularly loudly. Red Wine doesn’t pay it any mind though, after years of cohabiting with Steak he knows he’s a heavy sleeper.

This time though, Steak is awake. He waits for a moment, then sits up in bed. Since he can’t sleep anyway, he might as well find out where Red Wine goes every night. He waits a few more moments, then gets out of bed, carefully opening the door and peeking out. Red Wine is just turning the corner in the direction of the main door.

Shutting the door to their behind him, Steak follows. He finds the main door unlocked. So Red Wine does go out at night. Pushing gently at the door, Steak checks to see if Red Wine is a good distance away. He is, walking in the direction of the training fields. Steak steps out into the darkness of the night, the stars and the faint glow of the lanterns outside the food soul living quarters being the only sources of light.

It’s warm, but there’s a breeze and nice, and the sky is clear. Up above him Steak can see hundreds of stars dotting the cloudless inky black. He keeps his attention on Red Wine, who seems to be heading towards the hill near the training grounds. Makes sense. He does often sit up there while Steak and others are training, basking in the shade of one of the trees atop the hill. Red Wine is not a huge fan of noise and light. Of course he wouldn’t go out to town or anything.

And Steak is right. Red Wine stops on the edge of the hill, just beyond the tree, and sits down. Steak climbs the hill, making no effort to hide his approach. Red Wine’s hearing is above average, he’s probably heard him coming at this point.

Sure enough, when Steak reaches Red Wine, the other food soul doesn’t seem surprised to see him at all. He gives him a glance as he sits down next to him, but he doesn’t say anything. They sit in silence for a moment.

“What’re you doing out here?” Steak asks, eventually.

Red Wine gives him a look that says the answer should be obvious. When Steak doesn’t say anything more, he lets out a breath and rolls his eyes.

“Stargazing.” He says, simply.

Stargazing? Steak looks up at the sky. It’s alight with many bright dots, scattered seemingly erratically all around the vast darkness. He lets out a scoff. Count on Red Wine to do something like stargazing to pass the time.

Red Wine looks rather offended at the scoff. “I’ll have you know, stargazing is a noble pursuit.”

Steak laughs out loud. “Why would you spend your nights staring at randomly placed bright lights in the sky?”

Red Wine turns fully to face him, irritation clear on his face. “Look here,” his tone is indignant. “I don’t remember asking for your opinion on my hobbies.”

Steak shrugs, deciding not to reply. There’s no sense in riling Red Wine up further.

A moment passes, then Red Wine speaks again.

“Also, stars are not random, you imbecile.”

Steak looks at him questioningly. “What?”

Red Wine rolls his eyes. Lifting his hand, he points up at a particularly bright star.

“There’s the North Star.” He points to another star. “If you connect it to that one, then that one, then the one to the left, then that one, and that one” he stops on a star just above a tree in the distance, “It forms the vague shape of a rose.”

Following Red Wine’s movements, Steak sees that the stars do indeed look like a rose.

“It’s the constellation Rosa.” Red Wine says. “And those ones over there form a duck, they’re the constellation Anka.”

Sure enough, they do. Steak can’t help the almost childlike surprise he feels. He’s lived a long time, but he’s never really paid attention to the stars before, he’s never noticed that there was more to them than being twinkling dots in the sky.

He sits and listens to Red Wine as he continues to point out the constellations. For once they aren’t arguing, both transfixed on the stars floating out there in the vastness of space.

Red Wine seems more relaxed than usual, and Steak wonders if it’s because it’s night time, and there’s no pressure, none of the stress that comes with being a food soul, or if it’s just because he doesn’t have to worry about the light and heat of the sun.

The purple haired food soul is actually smiling a little, pointing out the constellations one by one. Steak can’t help but think that for once, Red Wine is the one that’s radiating warmth and passion, like he’s a star himself.

“That one over there is my favourite,” Red Wine says, gesturing to some stars to the left of their vantage point atop the hill.

“They form a wine glass,” the look of pride that is so commonplace on Red Wine’s face is back, but for some reason, it’s not the same as the usual one that Steak finds so insufferable. “It’s the constellation Verre de Vin.”

Steak traces the wineglass up in the sky with his eyes, committing the location to memory before he can stop to wonder why he’d want to remember a constellation that was so closely tied to someone who he wasn’t supposed to be too fond of.

And they sit there, gazing at the stars and talking quietly, at peace for once. They’ll probably be back to bickering in the morning, but for now it’s like that underlying connection they have which neither of them address but both acknowledge the existence of has magnified and surrounded them, and neither of them can find it in themselves to fight it.

So they sit there, and Red Wine shows Steak the stars, till the sun comes up over the distant forest line.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my favourite out of all the fics i've written for this prompt meme ksdfjsd


	5. Amber (Green Curry x Champagne)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Champagne finds solace in Green Curry's eyes
> 
> (Prompt: Eyes)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact, this is the first fic tagged champagne on ao3

To most people, Green Curry’s eyes are a mystery. They’re almost always hidden away behind his mask, an enigma to those around him. Nobody is quite sure why he always wears a mask, but he does, and he doesn’t take it off often. Only a few people have seen Green Curry’s eyes, and Champagne is one of them.

Underneath his mask, Green Curry’s eyes are a bright amber, unfamiliar to those who don’t know him. But Champagne has spent so long staring into those deep amber eyes that carry a world of pain and guilt that he can use them to tell when Green Curry is angry (his eyes narrow, sharpening barely noticeably), when he’s sad (the amber turns somewhat murky, and his eyes hold a rather pained, faraway look), when he’s truly happy (his eyes twinkle, bright and clear, every hue of amber brilliant and filled with joy). Champagne knows his moods, and he knows how they reflect in his eyes.

He’s memorized every little detail, from the various flecks of colour that enrich the vibrancy of Green Curry’s eye colour, and the sharp slanted shape of his eyes, to the way he tends to squint, eyes unaccustomed to lots of light from years spent hiding them under a mask. He knows it all, the way Green Curry’s eyes crinkle on the sides when he smiles, the blank, almost unnerving way they look when he doesn’t want anyone to know what he’s thinking.

He can understand why Green Curry wears a mask. When he does take it off, his eyes are piercing and sharp, with the ability to pierce into one’s very soul. Eye contact with Green Curry is a chilling experience for the average person. His eyes probe and search, making you feel like you’re exposed, sins bared for the world to see. There’s a power to Green Curry’s gaze, one that few people can take.

But Champagne doesn’t mind. His own eyes are pale in colour, and he’s often had the impression that people are somewhat unnerved by his gaze. Eyes that light are not common, and he has a tendency to look aloof and dangerous, even if only by instinct. In this path of life they live, one must be cunning and shrewd. It’s only natural that people would be unnerved by them, there’s a certain hard look that the eyes of someone who has the weight of so much responsibility to bear tend to have, unreadable and unfamiliar to the common person. But for him, looking into Green Curry’s eyes is staring into the eyes of someone who understands, someone who knows.

When he’s not really focusing on anyone or anything in particular, Green Curry’s eyes are somewhat sad. Champagne knows he carries a burden of memories, and sheer responsibility, he knows what it feels like, he understands the look in Green Curry’s eyes when he sits and stares at nothing, lost in his own mind.

Because at the end of the day, they’re very similar, Champagne and Green Curry. And maybe that’s why Champagne finds solace in Green Curry’s eyes, because under the sharpness and the sadness, the piercing gazes and the looks of guilt, there’s a strong and undying spark of hope in those seemingly endless amber pools.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> honestly, i love these two


	6. Snow (B-52 x Brownie)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> B-52 sees snow for the first time
> 
> (Prompt: Snow)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fluffy boiisssss  
> i lov

The weather is more or less always the same in Gloriville and in the Light Kingdom. Sunny, somewhat humid, generally pleasant, a tad dryer in the Light Kingdom than in Gloriville. B-52 has never really had the chance to go anywhere else, first tied to his Master Attendant, then to Spaghetti, so this climate is all he knows.

So when Brownie and Napolean Cake decide that they should all go to Nevras, B-52 expects the climate to be more or less the same. Upon arriving there, however, he finds that this assumption was wrong. It’s noticeably colder in Nevras, and the ground is covered in white, not green. The white blanket twinkles in the early morning sun, fresh and undisturbed.

As he and Brownie walk through the streets to the place where Napoleon Cake has gone to arrange their accommodations, B-52 grows increasingly curious about the white powder-like substance that covers simply everything. It carpets the ground like grass, but it can’t be grass because it’s not green, and grass only grows on the ground, this stuff is on top of buildings and stalls too. Whatever could it be? B-52 has never seen anything like it before.

“Brownie,” he says, because if anyone can help him figure this out it’s Brownie, “What is this powdery white substance?” He stops to touch some of it. It’s cold and wet, like small pieces of ice.

Brownie, who is partially hidden by the giant coat he’s wearing for warmth, turns to him, surprised. “Have you never seen snow before?”

“Snow?” Is this what that is? B-52 knows what snow is! “Is that not frozen precipitation caused by the freezing of water molecules in the clouds? I didn’t know it was white, and so powdery.” He had always thought it would be clear, like ice.

Brownie chuckles. “Yes, that’s what snow is. It’s really pretty isn’t it?” He picks a pile of snow up, compressing it in his hands till it’s a ball. 

“You can also use it to make shapes,” he says, handing B-52 the ball, who stares at it in wonder. But before long, it starts to melt, unable to withstand the heat of B-52′s body. B-52 frowns as the ball of snow turns into liquid, running off of his hands.

Brownie hums pensively. “It melts when it’s too warm, that’s why we don’t get a lot of snow in Gloriville.”

B-52 doesn’t want to melt the snow, he wants to make shapes with it too. So he focuses on ingesting the cold air around, lowering his body temperature till his core is several degrees lower than it usually is. 

He turns to Brownie. “Show me how to make shapes with the snow.” 

Brownie smiles, taking B-52′s hand and pulling him down the street.

They spend the morning wandering through the snow, forming shapes, building things, and pelting each other with snow. Brownie’s cheeks are rosy from the cold, but there’s a smile on his face. B-52 thinks that if snow can make Brownie smile like that, they should leave Gloriville and come and live here in Nevras.

What he doesn’t know is that Brownie is smiling not just because of the snow, but because he gets to experience it with B-52.


	7. Comfort (Cola x Hamburger)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cola is there for Hamburger
> 
> (Prompt: Crying)

Cola knows something is wrong when he sees that the door to Hamburger’s room is closed. It’s never closed during the day, Hamburger likes to leave it open to let in light and air.

Tentatively, Cola knocks on the door. There’s no reply. But from inside the room he can hear the shuffling of sheets, so he knows Hamburger is inside.

“..Hamburger? It’s Cola. Are you alright?” he keeps his voice quiet, not wanting to sound too worried, just in case he’s making a fuss over nothing. Still, his tone is noticeably concerned, and he hopes Hamburger answers, or opens the door.

He does neither. Concern growing, Cola goes to open the door. He hesitates just before pushing down the handle.

“I’m coming in, is that ok?” he decides to ask, in case Hamburger would rather be alone. From inside the room he hears a faint and rather deflated sounding ‘yes’. Worriedly, he opens the door and steps in, closing it behind him. 

The normally bright room is dark. Hamburger has pulled down the shades on the windows, and the only source of light is the lamp on the table next to the bed. Hamburger himself is on the bed, curled up under a pile of blankets, eyes red and face stained with tears.

It hurts Cola to see him like this. It happens to a lot of them, on the days when immortality becomes almost too heavy to bear, when they feel like they’re not enough to live a life like that for those they care about. Because even food souls have insecurities, even food souls have off days.

Hamburger is the last person one would expect to be a self-conscious person, but he is, more than most. Cola knows how easily Hamburger can lose his self-esteem, bold as his personality might be.

So he doesn’t say anything, he just moves to sit by Hamburger on the bed.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks after a moment. Hamburger shakes his head, choking back a sob, and Cola’s heart wrenches. He turns and lies down next to Hamburger, emotions twisting at the sight of the other food soul’s normally cheerful face, wracked with pain and sorrow.

“You got room under there for me?” Cola asks, smiling a little, though the smile is tinged with sadness. Hamburger sniffles, and nods, lifting the blanket. Cola wriggles underneath, and wraps his arms around Hamburger, pulling him close.

Hamburger buries his face in Cola’s chest, gripping onto his t-shirt like it’s a lifeline. Out of the two of them, Hamburger is actually the taller, but it’s easy to forget that when he’s small and vulnerable like this, curled up next to Cola. He’s also usually the stronger of the two, always there for Cola when he breaks down, which, admittedly, is rather often. 

It’s heartbreaking to see the bold and energetic Hamburger break down like this, and Cola wishes he could take away all of Hamburger’s sadness. But he can’t, he knows that. So Cola does the best he can, holding on to Hamburger till his sobs die down and he stops shaking.


	8. Thank You (Toast and Brownie)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brownie is thankful for Toast
> 
> (Prompt: Gratitude)

Brownie has a lot to be thankful for. He’s lucky to be alive, and under a good Master Attendant. So many food souls end up under abusive or apathetic Master Attendants, and it leaves them twisted and broken. He’s lucky to be under such a kind Attendant, with so many other food souls.

He’s thankful for those other food souls, too. They’re his friends, they’re all together, contracted to the same attendant. Brownie cherishes them all. 

But perhaps most of all he’s thankful for Toast. He’s calm and consistent, and he always knows what to say to make brownie feel better. 

When Brownie had first been summoned to this Attendant, it had been Toast who had shown him the ropes, and helped him get accustomed to working under a cooking attendant. Toast had been working in the restaurant for a while so he was able to guide Brownie, there for him whenever he needed help.

And even after Brownie mastered restaurant work, he continued to come to Toast for help and advice on all kinds of things. It was Toast who taught him how to optimize his gold savings so he could buy the parts he needed for his gun. It had been Toast who had helped Brownie when he missed his old attendant, soothing him with knowing words, and gentle mannerisms.

With Toast, Brownie feels cared for, basking in the other food soul’s doting nature. And he’s thankful, because Toast has made his life infinitely better.


	9. Blessing (Pretzel and Red Wine)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a blessing that they met, or who knows what might have happened
> 
> (Prompt: Blessing)

Red Wine is a creature of the shadows. His nature demands that he hide in the dark, away from the brilliance of light. It’s not his fault he’s like this, his vampiric tendencies are only the result of people treating him like a vampire. Food souls are shaped by the things that happen to them, both for the better and for the worse.

But most people wouldn’t associate Red Wine with a bloodthirsty vampire, and that’s because he’s learned to hold back his thirst, to resist and not feel dependent on blood. There’s a reason for this.

When this bloodthirst first emerged, Red Wine wasn’t able to handle it. He’d almost fallen, tortured by his thirst. But it had been Pretzel who’d stopped him that very first time. Pretzel, the priest, who had taken him and helped him get through the bloodlust, to push it back at least a bit, to the point where Red Wine didn’t feel the urge to bite and drink whenever he smelled the blood of a living thing.

Because of Pretzel, Red Wine could go on to be contracted to a new Master Attendant, instead of becoming the newest threat to the safety of humanity and food souls alike. 

As Pretzel would say, it was a blessing that he found Red Wine, that he helped him. It was a blessing that a priest had had compassion on a vampire, and helped him instead of shunning him. It was a blessing that Red Wine managed to push down his bloodthirst, or he might have ended up locked in a cell, deemed a monster by the world. 

It was a blessing that Red Wine met Pretzel that one time, or he really might have fallen.


	10. A New Longing (Green Curry x Boston Lobster)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Prompt: Yearn)

There’s a longing in Boston Lobster’s heart for something more than the predetermined role of a food soul. He doesn’t want to be bound to a mere human, forced to kill and work for their benefit. 

Many food souls don’t understand Boston his hatred of humans. They’ve all been contracted, Sweet Tofu, Salty Tofu, Spicy Gluten even Peking Duck. All but him. He can’t see things the way they want to, he doesn’t want to, because he’s never had that soul binding contract that ties a food soul to their Master Attendant. And he’d rather die than tie his soul to a human. 

But then there’s Green Curry. Green Curry, who not only understands, but respects his cause. Green Curry, who gets it, who feels the same thirst for revenge. Green Curry, who knows what it’s like to watch your people slaughter each other, to feel powerless to do anything about it. Green Curry, who shares the same longing for freedom.

Boston Lobster feels drawn to him, like there’s a tug in his soul that’s telling him to get closer to find out more, to get closer to this one food soul that understand and respects him. It’s a powerful tug, and Boston Lobster can’t find it in himself to resist.

Like Boston Lobster, Green Curry also longs for freedom. It’s why he started a rebellion, it’s why he respects Boston Lobster so much. There’s something about Boston Lobster, the way he protects what he believes in, and does what he thinks is right with no hesitation that draws Green Curry in, driven by a deep sense of awe, and in contrast, understanding.

They’re lonely paths, the ones that they each walk, as there are not many who are willing to support their causes. Perhaps that’s why they’re so drawn to each other. They understand each other more than anyone, and that alone is a small miracle. It’s new to them, companionship like this. It’s different.

Because for the first time, Boston Lobster and Green Curry find themselves yearning for something other than freedom.


End file.
